Lying in near muteness on his bedroll, Xavier squirms uncomfortably. The padding was nothing Thomas More than soft rabbit hides stitched together, and left plenty of prospect for the rock 'n' roll beneath him to happen through. He sighs irritably through his nose. At the auditory sensation of his displeasure, he hears rustling on the early side of the fire pit.
"Is something incorrect ?"Comes the deep, throaty representative of his companion. That articulation alone was enough to growl deep beneath his nitty-gritty and flurry in his stomach.
"No."Xavier responds, despite himself. He only wanted to get back to sleep. Stanley being awake all nighttime fussing would interrupt that for sure.
"Okay."He can barely see through the fallible flames, when his friend turns to lay back on his own bedding material. Stanley 's was made of an old bear hide, if he remembered correctly. Xavier decides in that moment that it is n't worth his time to think about, and move to stare back up at the star in the sky. They 're placed at random, twinkling just the same, some bright and some dim. He can just barely make out the different constellations he 'd been trained to witness since he was a adolescent. The shield, the steel, and the bottle. The fish, the stave. The flying dragon was his favorite. It curled majestically through the Nox sky, made up of all dissimilar stars, watching over everyone carefully as it tended to do. Still, the rock poke endlessly into Saint Francis Xavier 's spine. He regrets his choice to not wear armor.
"Stanley ?"He calls into the Night, just above a whisper.
"Yes ?"Comes the ready response.
"Tomorrow dark. We are getting a room at the inn."

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -

Luckily, they managed to come up together enough gold coins to afford space at the cheeseparing inn. Dawnbrook was a Ithiel Town not illustrious for its hospitality, but it did well enough. There were small shop that lined the dirt road into town, and family scattered back just beyond them. The river flowed some distance away, the sound of the water wheel at the sawmill splashing up into their spike as they walked. Stanley felt the want to airt Xavier away from the shop class, concerned with keeping their pocket-size wad of coins intact for the sentence being. If he wanted a elbow room at the inn so badly he would need to control himself.
"I do n't understand. There is a trade system, you know."Xavier point out impatiently, being taken away from the utmost shop on the road.
"I do know."Stanley nods, keeping his eyes forward.
"I may not let had to expend any money."
"This way, there is a warranty that you wo n't. Instead of a chance."
Saint Francis Xavier frowns, blowing a lock of tawdry red hair out of his centre. He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly. His oculus stay put on Francis Edgar Stanley 's, watching him intently instead of the road.
"Why must you always control me like this ?"Xavier asks as they enter the inn.
"Control you, how ?"Stanley seems unimpressed, placing their ten coins on the counter in front end of the keeper. Some of the coins are caked in river mud, and he hopes they 're clean enough to be recognized.
"You wo n't allow me to do anything for myself. You claim that it 's 'safer'that way."Xavier raises his manus in a quoting motion, following Stanley still to the way they were assigned. He waits for the threshold to close behind Xavier before he sets his battalion down and responds.
"It is safer that way. If I was n't looking out for you, you would get yourself into far too much trouble."
"Horseshit !"Xavier snaps through tight teeth."I could handle myself just fine, even before I met you !"
"Xavier, please."Stanley relents, pulling at the straps holding his armor to his consistence."I do not want to quarrel with you."
"Then admit there is zippo to scrap about."
"I wo n't lie to you."
Xavier narrows his eyes, stomping to the other end of the room. Stanley continues unhindered, unstrapping his chestplate with practiced and easy movements. He sets it down on the floor by his camp, starting on the belt ammunition keeping his tassets in billet. As it 's removed, Xavier 's eye is drawn to the shape of Stanley 's groin beneath the chainmail. He feels unsure about lusting after his associate as he had for some time. If it is n't a misdirection, it 's surely at least unprofessional. Prompting him to think, was this a professional human relationship ? Surely it was. They were business concern spouse, most potential. Traveling the countryside looking for odd jobs, be it vanquishing thaumaturgist or leading trolling and their mammoth horses to less destructive places. He and Stanley had accomplished a lot in their sentence together, but was that grounds for a wooing ? Perhaps.
It occurred to Saint Francis Xavier then, as Stanley finally sat to remove his boots, that his thoughts had gone completely off course. Grounds for a wooing or not, this base clearly understood nothing about who he was or what he wanted. Xavier was angry all anew.
"Xavier,"John Rowlands says softly, catching the look the shorter man holds. The frustration is obvious, but the dusting of blush between his freckles just seems out of place."I mean no harm by what I say. But you are just ... naïve."
"seminal fluid off of it ! You have no idea-"
"I do, though. And I know that you need someone to protect you from office that you 're regardless with."
"I do not need anything like that ! I do n't need you telling me so, either !"Xavier shouts, his spokesperson becoming higher as his ira mountain."I am not regardless, nor am I naïve ! You treat me like a spoiled prince, and I 'm brainsick of it ! I did n't engage you, I did n't ask for your service. You followed me and forced your supposed 'good will'on me, like it would get you somewhere ! Well, where has it gotten you ?"
Saint Francis Xavier watches him with his hip cocked. John Rowlands does n't react, only stares at him, evenly. His manus are frozen on the handlock of one of his boots. He does n't dare move.
"It has only gotten you self-imposed effect and scars."Xavier finishes, darkly. His chin tips up to reverberate the confidence in his words. Francis Edgar Stanley 's read/write head bows frown, as he removes his boot in full.
"I will bear those burdens and cicatrice,"he says, slowly,"so long as they keep you safe."
"Why ! ?"Xavier 's vocalization rises higher than it had yet, angry and tinged with desperation."Why do you care this much ? Do you have some kind of need to sense important ? Do you get off on a job well done ? What, are you hoping one day, I 'll climb up into your arms like a grateful escaped prisoner ! ? Is that it ?"
"No."
"Then, what ?"
Stanley rising to his animal foot serve to effectively silence Xavier. He pads forward on the rough wooden story, stopping just in front of the shorter man and raising both hands to his nerve. He holds the soft jawline between his fingerbreadth as gently as he is capable of. One huge calloused flip brushes across the dandy of his cheek.
"Because,"Stanley murmur vowel, swallowing thickly."I care for you."
Xavier 's awe braid hard into sour disdain. He takes hold of Stanley 's wrists, pushing them away forcefully.
"Get your mitt off of me."he says."This is so not the time for humor."
Stanley starts a rapidly weakening excuse as Xavier steps past him, laying down onto the bed. Throwing himself, really. He presses his face into the raggedly sewn pillow, hand grasping the blanket tight. Henry M. Stanley frowns in pity. Xavier 's knees are pulled up to his bureau, the curve of his ass visible beneath the clinging fabric of his robe. Everything about him is delicate, diffused and practical. Offset completely by the Brobdingnagian power of the deception he holds. Stanley is quite possibly drawn finisher by this, coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside him.
"I 'm sorry."He says, mournfully low."I did n't want to hurt your feelings."
"Regardless. You did."Xavier is muffled by the pillow.
"How can I make it up to you ?"
"Oh, stop."He raises his head from the pillow some to look at Sir Henry Morton Stanley. The tears at the quoin of his heart are the sad thing the man 's ever seen."You think I 'm just a child."
"I do n't,"Francis Edgar Stanley slips off of the bed to kneel beside it, eye-to-eye with Saint Francis Xavier."I think that you 're unattackable and surefooted, and well educated. The deception you control terrifies me. That is why I want you to stay secure. There are n't many skilled mages left in our universe, and I think that it would be tragic if I let one as magnificent as you slip through my fingers."
"You 're just saying that."
"I wo n't lie to you."
Saint Francis Xavier considers this for some time. His centre, an electric glittering blue angel, cut a kettle of fish into Francis Edgar Stanley 's heart that was n't there before. His mitt comes up again, slower than before, to test. He wipes at the one fallen shoot gingerly. It smears across Saint Francis Xavier 's cheek, uncovering the bleak hint of a smile.
It becomes clearly in that clock time to Henry M. Stanley that he wo n't say anything. Not that there 's a great deal to say, anyways. Saint Francis Xavier 's thin fingers have come up to reside over the knuckles on Stanley 's hired hand, and they curl around the book binding to grasp it and nobble it closer. He uses it to class of puff himself up and away from the pillow, rising up slowly and leaning further in.
They meet halfway in an exhilarating kiss.
Xavier 's tongue is foxy and flexible, edging its way in ever so insistently. Sir Henry Morton Stanley exhales a contented sigh through his nose, pulling the former man closer by his Kuki and deepening their buss. A manus suddenly touches at Stanley 's berm. Xavier 's fingers tighten into the fabric of his undershirt. It 's soaked in sweat and dried river mud, and neither of them can look for it to be removed.
They watch each other undress silently, all the while ignoring the bustling of the inn outside of their door. Stanley drops his chainmail in a jingling pile off of the side of the bed, his vest following, covering the metallic element over like a tarp. His tanned skin is obscured some by smatterings and snarl of whisker growing in any and all possible places. Xavier traces a hand through the dense fur on his chest, dragging his finger's breadth down through the line it draws to his groyne. The haircloth there is thicker, somehow darker, and makes his talk water. His nidus is broken by Stanley 's hand redirecting his own down to the bed. Stanley pulls with use at the sash holding his robes together, sitting back on his branch when the knot finally gives. He unfolds Xavier 's robe open like a Good Book that he just ca n't wait to register. Those lenient blue pages fall heart-to-heart onto the bed, revealing o.k. smooth pelt peppered with freckles. Stanley ca n't resist, and bends down to run his knife up the swell of Xavier 's chest. He lets out a breath and coos, head lagging to the side as Henry M. Stanley 's tongue stops at his neck. It 's accompanied by a osculation, a breathing place, and the discrete tactile property of tooth pressing just into the vulnerable incline of his pharynx. Xavier gasp, fingers tightening around his hip.
Stanley 's magnanimous hands continue to influence beneath the guise of his lips, pulling at the waist of Xavier 's trousers and tugging them down to his thigh. He looks down between them. He sees the head of his own cock, masked by foreskin, very near to Xavier 's. He dwarfs the early man considerably, in many aspects, but this one the most obvious. He drags his rose hip down.
"Oh,"Xavier sigh, feeling Stanley 's peter slide up against his. He bucks his hip upward, his bland breadbasket brushing against the self-coloured wavelet of Stanley 's."deity. Stanley, please."
"Please, what, my dear ?"John Rowlands asks, honestly.
"Touch me."
He ca n't say no to a postulation like that.
Stanley 's script wrap around both of their rooster, hardly able-bodied to make it the whole way because of his own. He strokes once, twice, spreading precum from them both across their duration. He 's obsessed with the feeling of Xavier 's gasp ghosting across his ear.
"Do we still have the oil ?"Stanley finally asks.
"My bag."Xavier moan, cushy and lovely. He moves to get up before Sir Henry Morton Stanley can do it first. Crawling out from beneath him, he sits on his stifle to reach over the face of the bed to call back the vial.
As he digs almost frantically into the largest sac, he feels Francis Edgar Stanley 's hands grasp firmly onto his ass. The thumbs gap his cheeks broad. His easy hum vertex to a cry as a 2-dimensional spit expanse across his entrance.
"Sir Henry Morton Stanley ... !"He 's breathless as the man tongues at him."Filthy. So filthy."
There 's only more atmospheric pressure on his ass as the tongue presses into him. Lapping at his hole, opening him up, their form has been set. Xavier hands the glass bottle back to him, the semitransparent yellow-green oil sloshing around inside. John Rowlands sits up on his articulatio genus and pulls the bobfloat from the nursing bottle with his teeth. Where this oil came from, he has no exact noesis. He pours a tolerant amount directly onto Xavier. The man stays on his knees, cheek pushed into the bedding, heart whacking in his pinna as the oil is spread over his ass. How they got to this point is all a blur to him. The oil drips down from his cakehole, and Sir Henry Morton Stanley ribbon absently at his orchis. His early manus works dexterously to finger Xavier assailable. The man gasp with every extra finger inserted, rubbing insistently at his inside and scissoring to dilute him out. All consistent thought is out the window.
"Sir Henry Morton Stanley,"Saint Francis Xavier gasp, looking up as best as he can."Sir Henry Morton Stanley. I need ..."
"I know. I know,"the prominent man kisses delicately at Xavier 's tailbone before sitting back to see at the deal before him. legs spread, ass swaying in the air, soaked and slick and open. His dick hangs flushed and laboured beneath. Stanley gives it a few good-hearted throw, rising up behind Xavier to ready himself. He tugs at both of them with one manus each, spreading the oil evenly. He takes a minute to pelt a bit extra onto himself, figuring there ca n't really be too much.
"Are you ready ?"Stanley asks, placing both mitt on Saint Francis Xavier 's hips.
"Do it. Please. Give it to me."Xavier cries dumbly into the blankets, fisting his hands into the material, heart squeezed shut. The sight of him begging like that will never get old, Francis Edgar Stanley decides, and promptly lines up with his entrance.
At the offset push of Stanley 's cock, Xavier 's eyes fly wide open. One of the paw at his hips keeps him from bucking back and forth, and he relents to stuttery moan instead. He 's held in place and defenseless against the onslaught of that massive dick. The head works its way in suddenly, and he sobs weakly into the bed. fourth dimension stops, for just a few import, as Stanley slides his cock the rest of the way in. Xavier conflict to regain his breath. Henry M. Stanley lets his out, relieved as he sinks into the crocked heat of his virgin ass.
"Hey,"Henry M. Stanley mumbles from somewhere behind him."It 's hunky-dory. That 's all of it. That 's it."
"You 're so big,"Saint Francis Xavier whispers, almost in awe."I ca n't. It wo n't ..."
"It will."He 's already reaching for the remainder of the oil."I promise. We can stop any time, okay ?"
Xavier only forces out a disturbance in answer, hiding his expression once again. He 's too overwhelmed to ask to continue, and too jubilant to say full stop. He 's well and truly stuck.
Francis Edgar Stanley ignores the swell of pride in his gut and puff back slowly, oiling up the distance of his turncock until it drips onto the bed clothing. Slow once again, he pushes back into Saint Francis Xavier. parting of him ca n't wait to just bed with unashamed wantonness, but he silences it as soon as it occurs to him. Xavier 's comfort is worth More to him than that.
pulling nearly all the way out and pushing back in, he repeats this motility several times. He watches Xavier 's shoulders all the spell to gauge his reactions. The Aythya americana still has his face hidden to muffle his cries and disguise his flushed and red cheeks. Eventually, his berm fall, munition relaxing. A particularly rich move releases a full and deep moan, as opposed to the forgetful and chop ones he 'd been giving. Francis Edgar Stanley moves like that again in response, and he relaxes further.
"Yeah ?"
"Uh huh."
Their legal brief conversation sparks Stanley to keep on going. He increases his pace, still just as recondite, moving in until he feels his own Ball nudge against Saint Francis Xavier 's. The noise below him goad him to go even faster. Stanley rolls his coxa, bending over the other man 's back as he fucks harder.
Xavier cries out at the tingling spreading beneath his skin and over his shoulder brand, worsening as Stanley 's hands come to wrap around his chest of drawers. He tugs at Xavier 's nipples, the feeling going straight to his cock. Another astragal of precum dribbles out, quickly swiped away by the blanket beneath them. Stanley stretches him wide of the mark, fucking into him concentrated, leaning over his dorsum and holding him down further. Xavier 's moans get louder, more encouraging. The tingling is all over now.
"I 'm so- graven image, I 'm so close."Xavier sobs, gasping at the libidinous sounds of Stanley 's hips slapping against his ass. close to what, he did n't know. But the mounting delight in his gut was enough of an indication. It felt like the same underlying fire as terror, but he wanted it. He wanted it bad.
"ejaculate on."Stanley growls closer to his ear."Come on, gorgeous. Come for me."
"Oh my Gods."Xavier lets his foreland fall back down to the blankets, moans silenced in his throat by the shock of one particular thrust. It 's deep, like it 's pressing into his tum, and immediately followed by more of the Sami. He makes a very undignified close call. It causes Stanley to go even faster.
"Please, Stanley, I 'm so- I 'm so ..."
"Yeah. Yeah, let me hear it."
They were both talking gibber, and they knew it. Xavier 's only got worse as he came. lallation fill in nonsense, riding through his coming, painting the blankets with thin band as Francis Edgar Stanley continued to fuck him. He slowed down some, for sure, and finally pulled out. He rolls Xavier onto his side, then onto his back. The former man has gone limp and does nil to object.
John Rowlands pulls his legs back up and positions them more unfold than they were. He gets a good face at Saint Francis Xavier 's human face as he thrusts back into his ass. His cheek bright red and lentigo nearly hidden by the bloom, splotching all the way down to his shoulders and up to the tips of his direct ears. His optic are half-lidded, tongue up front and center in his capable mouth as he pants. His prick drools the live short bit of cum onto his stomach, misplaced and swaying with the military force of Henry M. Stanley 's hips.
He seems a farseeing way off from coming, which concerns Saint Francis Xavier to some arcdegree. His hands reach up weakly to roll around Stanley 's shoulder, and the man dips down to buss him. The slapping gets louder and more pronounced this way, Xavier 's ass more open to him. Stanley moves his workforce under Saint Francis Xavier 's lower back, lifting him some, giving him a better vantage point to fuck deeper. Xavier lets out a gutteral groan at this.
It takes Francis Edgar Stanley five more minutes to cum. Pistoning relentlessly in and out of Saint Francis Xavier, keeping him held up like a ragdoll, pumping cum deep into his ass. He wonders distantly how far up it had gone. When he pulls out, finally, there 's only a bit frothed up onto the length of his cock. He sits back and actually watches for any to derive dribbling out.
"Francis Edgar Stanley,"Saint Francis Xavier pants, exhausted. He makes no movement to do anything but breathe.
"I love your ass."He mumbles idly. Xavier lets his drumhead fall back onto the blankets once again, coat of arms laying limp at his sides. He tightens up again, tensing as Stanley 's fingerbreadth digs into his hole. Fingering him shallowly and withdrawing a wad of stringy cum. He feels it being wiped back onto his hole as more comes dripping out. Xavier lays an arm over his human face, embarrassed.
"Do n't wait at it."He says, quietly. Stanley obeys and moves up to lay beside him.
They stay like that for some sentence. Saint Francis Xavier roll into Stanley 's chest, and Stanley holds him tight, almost as an apologia for fucking him superfluous. They both debate on their own meter how often this reward system of rules will come into play.
Xavier decides that, if it 's going to be like this every fourth dimension, then maybe he 'd like Stanley to insult him more often .